Starting Over
by Kendralynn
Summary: With the war over and everyone Harry cared about gone, he decides to use a spell that will take him to a new world where all his loved ones are still alive. However something goes wrong. Instead of a new life, he finds himself starting over. SS/HP Slash
1. Chapter 1

**Starting Over**

_Harry/Severus, Remus/Sirius_

**Author's Note**: This is the re-written version of the 'Starting Over' story I started after Half-Blood Prince was released. This is a revised version of the original story with MAJOR plotline changes. This may or may not include any new knowledge and/or plot devices from the final books. As a matter of fact, I will be taking great liberties with Pre- and Post-HBP canon in general. The original, unfinished version of this story can be found at my Yahoo group. The group's link can be found on my profile page.

**Warnings for the story as a whole**: Slash, Het, smut, underage, outright chan perpetrated by minor characters, lots of action, MAJOR changes from the original version of this story, and lots of AU ahead...

With the release of books after HBP, new information came to light about characters, horcruxes, etc. You will find that I have not changed a lot of things to fit new canon facts. It's just too much trouble for me. So, you will see items, facts, and various other things (such as the items that actually were horcruxes) unchanged from my guesses at what they would be when I first started this story. Please do not complain about things that don't match or completely ignore canon facts.

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**ONE**

/

Icy green eyes surveyed the bedroom. Bare wooden floors, dusty in some areas, worn and scratched in others, stretched before him. The walls were just as devoid of object or decoration. The rest of the flat was empty, too, for all his earthly possessions were in a shrunken eight-compartment trunk dangling from a chain around his neck.

The war had been long, hard, and devastating. Almost everyone he cared about was dead, and as far as he was concerned, the wizarding world could consider him, Harry _Bloody_ Potter, dead as well. There was nothing left for him here.

Hermione, the only one left who knew him as Harry and not The-Boy-Who-Lived or The-Man-Who-Conquered, had left the wizarding world early on. Ron's death in a skirmish outside of Hogsmead six months after graduation devastated the newly wed mother-to-be. She descended into deep depression that she never fully recovered from, even now, two years later.

Initially, Hermione's anger at the Ministry and wizarding populace in general was almost as fierce as her grief. She publicly berated them all for hiding like cowards and expecting a brave few to fight Voldemort's evil threat. However, fear for her un-born child accomplished what Voldemort and his Deatheaters could not, driving her back into the muggle world, where she refused contact with everyone, including Harry himself.

He couldn't really blame her since he was preparing to do the same thing. Only, Harry was planning on taking it a step further. If his spell worked correctly, he would leave not only the wizarding world but also this dimension entirely.

A smirk thinned Harry's full lips. There was no way he could turn his back on magic. Hell, he was the most magical being in existence now. No. He just wanted a new world. A world where he wasn't The-Boy-Who-Lived. A world that wouldn't expect anything from him. A world where everyone he cared about was still alive.

So, now he stood in the empty bedroom of his flat with everything he owned, including the contents of both the Potter and Black vaults, in a magical eight-compartment trunk. The expansion charms on each compartment were easily boosted by the magic he now wielded, allowing him to take everything from galleons to books and magical artifacts.

Harry would leave nothing behind for anyone from this world, except the five-million galleon trust fund for Ron and Hermione's son, Charles. And, regardless of Hermione's opinion of the wizarding world, the goblins would contact Charles directly when he reached the age of seventeen to turn over control of the account.

Picking up his black, dragon-hide battle robes, Harry conjured a full-length mirror with a flourish of his hand. He had finally reached a height of six feet; his body lean and well muscled from years of physical and magical training from Mad-Eye Moody, Severus Snape, and a surprisingly alive Nicholas Flammel.

Nicholas had stashed away a large amount of the Elixir of Life before the stone was destroyed in Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, the Elixir could only extend life, not bring someone back from the dead, as Harry had found to his sorrow after the final battle.

Shrugging on his robes, Harry adjusted the knives strapped on his outer, leather-clad thighs, added two more in the tops of his calf-high boots, and practiced drawing the revolver tucked into the harness under his left arm a couple of times. He clipped onto his belt a pouch of throwing knives, blackened to match the color of the rest of his clothing. He hadn't needed a wand in almost a year and kept his old Holly and Phoenix Feather friend packed away in his trunk.

Surprisingly, it had been Snape who helped him discover the real power-the-dark-lord-knows-not.

After his death, Dumbledore's portrait had appeared in the Headmaster's office. Albus instructed Minerva to gather the Order to view the memories he left behind in his pensieve. Though the memories had revealed the wizard's oath that forced Snape kill the old man, fulfilling Dumbledore's own wishes for his death to benefit Snape's status in Voldemort's inner circle, order members argued for many hours over the issue of where the Potions Master's true loyalties now belonged. Though Albus had manipulated Severus into swearing the oath, the Order finally decided to cautiously accept the Headmaster's faith in Snape.

Harry had taken a lot longer to convince. Though, in the end, he felt a certain amount of pity for his former professor. Between the wizard's oath with Albus and the unbreakable vow with Narcissa Malfoy, Snape had truly been trapped into a course of action he would have never wished upon the man, regardless of their hateful history.

Despite their years of antagonism, Harry and Snape learned to work well together. They became friendly comrades during their secret training sessions.

Mad-Eye, Nicholas, and Severus spent a portion of each training session debating the prophecy and the "power the Dark Lord knows not." However, it was the nimble mind of the Potions Master that provided the break-through Harry needed. Delivered with his usual razor-sharp wit, Snape expanded on Albus' theory of love. He suggested that Harry use this strong emotion to push past the barriers one's mundane mind set as the limits of magical possibilities, thus convincing one's self that there were no limits...without destroying himself in the process, of course.

This allowed him to achieve a state of mind that utilized more than just his full potential. He also gained access to raw earth magic.

In an expression reminiscent of the Potions Master, Harry sneered at himself in the mirror and adjusted his short, shaggy fringe over the thin, silvered scar on his forehead. Since Voldemort's death, the blemish had faded until it was barely noticeable. In fact, one would have to be actively looking for it to find the lightening shaped mark. However, it still bothered him that it didn't disappear completely. This was one time that Harry regretted getting his vision corrected. The glasses would have further distracted from the scar without having to use a small glamour to hide it while in public.

Banishing the mirror, Harry took one last look around. Then, he apparated to a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, just outside of where the Hogwarts wards would have extended...had it still been standing.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Harry prepared for the long incantation to open a portal.


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

/

Harry groaned and clutched his throbbing head. His arms felt leaden, and distantly, beyond the ache in his temples, the rest of his body felt weak and battered. Damn, that dimension traveling spell must have done one hell of a number on him.

He slowly opened his eyes, expecting the soft sunlight that filtered through the thick canopy of the Forbidden Forest to give his headache a sharp prod. Instead, he found darkness, black as pitch. At that moment, the rest of his senses seem to kick back on, and he registered the hard surface beneath him, the musty scent of dust, and a vague feeling of being in an enclosed space.

Extending his magic to map out the area, kind of like muggle radar, Harry immediately felt four walls surrounding him. A few moments later, he detected three living beings, two close together and one a short distance away, somewhere above him.

'_What? Did someone find me in the forest and stick me in their damned basement?_', he thought to himself.

Cautiously, he adjusted himself into a crouched position, ready to spring up or to the side, wondering why his clothing, and especially his gun, felt ten times heavier than normal. Mentally summoning a dim light orb, Harry looked around. A dawning horror creeped up his spine. Then, he looked down at himself.

And screamed.

An angry voice filtered down from above, yelling, "Boy! Shut your trap before I come down there and shut it for you! Damn little freak!"

'_Oh no, oh no, oh no_' kept repeating in his head. This couldn't be happening. He was back in his cupboard under the stairs at number 4 Privet Drive and so small he was swimming around in his battle robes. The weight of his clothing and weapons was due to the simple fact that he was somehow a tiny, malnourished little boy again. Several minutes passed in shocked silence. Questions of why and how swirled in Harry's brain, until his training finally came to the fore and he utilized Occlumency to calm himself.

Something had obviously gone wrong with the spell, and Harry had no idea what it could have been. Some how he had traveled back in time, and judging from his size, it was sometime before his eleventh birthday. But, if it was standard time travel, where was his past self?

"Never should have trusted a dark arts book from the Black library." Harry whispered to himself.

He may be clueless as to the whys and hows of his current situation, but he knew one thing for sure. There was no way in hell he was going to relive his childhood with the Dursleys.

Waving his hand, Harry shrunk his clothes to fit his new 'old' body, relieved that magic seemed to be working for him the same as it did before. Then, he repositioned the revolver and tightened the straps of the dagger sheaths on his legs. Crawling to the cupboard door, he lifted the latch and banished the light orb. Creeping out into the hall, he paused for a moment and listened for any movement coming from upstairs. The only sounds were faint snores and the ticking from the grandfather clock in the parlor.

Harry moved silently down the hall into the kitchen and shut the door behind him. Switching on the light, his eyes moved straight to the calendar his Aunt Petunia always hung above the kitchen counter. A slow grin curled his lips when he saw the date. He was ten years old and had almost a year before receiving his Hogwarts letter.

Plenty of time to find and destroy the horcruxes again

Maybe he could have a somewhat normal life this time. And best of all, Ron, the Weasleys, Cedric, Remus and Sirius, Albus, Professors McGonagal and Flitwick, Severus, and hundreds more wouldn't have to die. But first things first. He had to get out of the Dursley's house and get his old body into shape.

Harry conjured a full-length mirror and was mildly shocked at his appearance. He'd obviously forgotten how sickly he looked at this age. Thick, messy black hair, that was a tad too long to look neat, topped a pale face. He could still see perfectly without his old glasses. So, the magical eye-correction still held like his abilities with magic had, but his physical condition seemed worse than he remembered. He looked positively anorexic in the snug leather pants and black button-up. The battle robes, thankfully, made him look a little more filled out.

Harry pushed back his fringe and looked at the scar. It was pink, slightly raised like a welt and very noticeable. He could kick himself for thinking just hours ago that the thin, silvered line on his forehead was so awful.

It was a mystery that his magical abilities remained the same along with the magical alteration to his eyes and would require some research. Perhaps he could find some answers in the books from the either the Potter or Black vaults. Harry's eyes widened and his had shot to his neck. Did he still have his trunk? He patted around the area, felt the small rectangular object dangling from his necklace, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Banishing the mirror, Harry switched off the light and slipped out the back door. Stars twinkled overhead and a light breeze ruffled his hair. A building sense of hope and elation bubbled in his chest, causing some of the anger and grief that had built over the past several years to fade.

Harry had a second chance, and he wasn't going to waste it. He would hit fast, hard, and be very thorough. Most people would consider him a dark wizard now, but dark didn't mean evil. Both Mad-Eye and Severus had taught him that. Regardless of people's opinions, the lives of his friends and loved ones were worth it.

But, the first order of business would be some good food, exercise, and a comfortable place to stay. Harry waved a hand at the back of the Dursley residence, muttered a few incantations, and apparated away.

The next morning the residents of Privet Drive would waken to screams coming from number four. A lucky few would see two severely obese males waddle out the front door with large pink pig's tails, followed by a thin woman with a pinched face and a horse's tail.

**ONE YEAR LATER**

/

A short, lithe figure maneuvered through the nighttime patrons of Knockturn Alley, seeming to move from shadow to shadow, never entering the dim squares of light shining through the dusty windows of the run-down shops. If one had the ability to see the streams of magic filtering through the very air, they would notice that the figure was actually creating some of the shadows to make his journey easier.

Harry Potter opened the door of Belby's Apothecary, releasing the shadow magic. The tingling door bell announced his arrival to the wrinkled, old clerk behind the counter. A toothless smile and booming voice greeted Harry's entrance.

"Dante! What can I be gettin' ya this fine ev'nin, me lad?"

Harry lowered the hood of his cloak, revealing a small grin. "I'll have the usual supplies, Bane, along with an ounce of Re'em blood and twenty-five grams of scurvy grass."

The old man didn't say a word. He just nodded and went about collecting Harry's ingredients. One of Knockturn's finer points was it's 'no questions' policy.

Harry moved to the counter and pulled out his moneybag. He knew it wouldn't take long, since he had a standing order for basic potions supplies that he picked up on a monthly basis. Of course, Harry's idea of basic was a bit more expanded than what an average potions brewer would expect. But, he'd needed the extra items over the past year. Between nutrition and health potions on top of a few battle potions, he had put to good use all the extra training Snape had given him.

"Here ya go, lad. That'll be thirty-four galleons even."

Harry tossed the coins on the counter and picked up his package, leaving with a quick nod to Bane. His contacts in Knockturn Alley were all a-buzz about a gathering Lucius Malfoy was hosting for the old 'social club' and prospective new members next month, and Harry had a few preparations to take care of.

Harry sneered to himself, as he slipped back into the shadows. After all, what was a party without the great Harry Bloody Potter?

# # #

A tall, dark figure stood in the corner of Belby's Apothecary, hidden by a large display of bat's wings. He had been trying to decide whether to buy a few of the fresher specimens when the boy walked in.

Normally, he wouldn't spare a second glance for an insignificant street rat, but Bane's congenial welcome caught his attention. It was the type of welcome that Bane reserved for his favored customers. When the boy lowered his hood, the sight of his shaggy hair in an unnatural shade of blood red was jarring. Suddenly, the significance of the boy's name, Dante, was made clear, and he smirked at the boy's cheek. This boy who called himself Dante obviously had a love for muggle literature. He had no doubt that the name Dante was just as contrived as the hair color.

The extra ingredients Dante requested with his order were intriguing. Were these supplies for himself or was he picking up potion supplies for someone else? The young man couldn't be any older than eleven or twelve years old. Then, this Dante walked over to the counter and he was stunned by the way the boy moved. Dante's booted feet made no sound on the dirty floorboards, his gait the confident grace only seen from older wizards well trained in the arts of physical combat.

Perhaps the young man warranted further investigation. The boy's guardian or master obviously started his training at a young age, and if his suspicions were correct, that training included potions as well as physical combat. A wizard or witch who would train someone at such a young age lacked any scruples whatsoever and could be a future threat.

As the door rattled closed behind the boy, the dark figure moved around the bat wing display, intent on following the boy.

"Master Snape! Did ya find anything ya wanted?"

Severus Snape casually waved a hand over his shoulder without answering and walked out.

But, the boy was already gone.

# # #

Harry slumped down on the couch with a sigh and released his glamour. His plans hadn't quite panned out the way he'd wanted over the past year, and it looked like he would have to try his hand at making the aging potion after all. He was good at potions, thanks to Severus, but was no where near the Potions Master's incredible ability. He hoped he didn't screw it up, because he only had enough time to take two doses before Lucius's party, one dose immediately and the other just a couple of days before the soirée.

This advanced version of the aging potion would age him by two years each dose, bringing his body up to the age of fifteen, just old enough to pretend an interest in becoming a prospective member for Lucius's social club. The simpler, and less painful, version would only age him one year per dose, and he would consider making it to bring his body's age up to his mental equivalent after he completed his mission at the blonde Death Eater's party.

Standing, Harry stretched and looked around the room with a smile. He needed to go down to his potions lab in the basement but couldn't help appreciating the home that he'd built. After leaving the Dursley's, he had apparated to Godric's Hollow. He'd wanted to rebuild his parent's home so badly, but had decided against it. The location was too high profile, and with the Fidelius Charm, someone would eventually remember that they couldn't remember where it was. So, he had decided to use an old, abandoned barn nearby. No one would miss the dilapidated structure.

Harry had to admit that he had been too cocky, thinking his immense magical power would make setting up a home easy. He could hear Moody's voice in his head now. '_Potter, even if you had all the power in the world, it's nothing without knowledge. So what, if you're powerful. Without learning, you're nothing but a powerful idiot!_'

Harry laughed out loud at the memory. His magic could do a lot with willpower and intent alone, but the single-minded concentration and attention to detail required to renovate the barn had been beyond his capabilities. Hell, he hadn't even been sure what details to concentrate on. So, he had needed actual spells to make it happen. It had taken a couple of days to research, but it had been an interesting crash course in magical construction and building maintenance.

He was pleased with the results, too. Harry now had a spacious, single level home with three comfortable bedrooms, two large baths, a combination kitchen and dining area, and a well-appointed living area with floor-to-ceiling bookcases and a cheery fireplace.

After completing the magical construction, it had taken longer than he'd planned to get his younger body into shape. There was only so much nutrition, growth, and general health potions could do. He'd had to retrain his muscles and reflexes so his body could do what his knowledge said he should be able to physically accomplish. Thankfully, at this point, he was taller than other eleven year olds and in better shape than a majority of wizards twice that age. This should make the accelerated aging process a lot easier.

Once he'd been able to get into shape, he started tracking down the horcruxes. His eleventh birthday in this new time-line had passed two weeks ago, and he still had three horcruxes left to find and destroy along with a possessed Professor to exorcise.

Making a detour on the way to the potions lab, Harry stopped at the table in his study area. An innocent looking list lay in the middle with all but four items checked off. The unchecked items were the remaining horcruxes and a possessed Professor: Diary, Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, Nagini, Quirrell.

Helga's cup hadn't been where he'd found it last time. So, Voldemort had obviously moved it after his rebirth in the original time-line. Nagini was equally elusive. Exorcising Quirrell and getting the diary from Malfoy would be the two easiest items to check off. Malfoy's party would provide the opportunity he needed to destroy the diary. Then, he could slip into Hogwarts via the secret tunnel at Honeydukes at take care of Quirrell.

The thought of Hogwarts brought a smirk to Harry's face. He had hidden his magical signature immediately after leaving the Dursley's, and the acceptance letter he would have received at his birthday two weeks ago was surely returned as undeliverable. Albus was probably pulling his beard out hair-by-hair wondering where Harry was by now. '_Ah, to be a fly on the old goat's wall right about now_,' he thought. Served the old fart right to be worried. He should have been keeping a regular check on Harry's well being over the years.

Dumbledore's games and manipulations had often pissed Harry off over the years in the old time-line. At times, Harry had wanted to both slap and hug the old man simultaneously. Well, this time around, Albus would live many years longer, giving Harry the opportunity to do both if he wanted.

But first, he had a potion to brew and a party to crash.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

/

Harry groaned in relief as the pain potion took effect. The first dose of the aging potion had resulted in just as much pain as the potions book had promised, and he was already dreading the next time, even though it was a whole month away. Hefting himself off the bed, he was pleased to notice that he was a couple of inches taller than he'd been just last night.

The mirror in the bathroom revealed even more changes. His hair had grown past his slightly broadened shoulders, and a sparse trail of hair had formed below his belly button and around his bits. All-in-all he looked to be in better shape and a bit more developed than he had the first time around in the old time-line.

As Harry stood there examining himself, his thirteen year old penis began to take an interest in the proceedings, stiffening slightly.

"Ah, the joys of puberty." Harry muttered, his pitch warbling on the last word.

'Great, random erections and a voice that goes wonky,' he thought, suddenly looking forward to the next dose of aging potion.

After his shower, Harry mentally reviewed the things he needed to accomplish today and over the next month before Lucius's party. He needed to make some purchases in Diagon and Knockturn Alleys first. It was mid-August now and Diagon Alley would be bursting with children and parents shopping before the start of term, so he would have to visit Eyelops Owl Emporium immediately to get Hedwig before someone else. He was also of a mind to purchase his wand again, along with a side trip to Knockturn for a house-elf.

Over the past year, since this all began, he had been so focused on finding and destroying horcruxes that he'd only checked the Burrow twice for Wormtail's presence. The fact that Pettigrew hadn't been there didn't bother him. He figured the animagus would need to get away from the twins pranks every once in awhile. However, he knew Percy Weasley would give the rat to Ron soon, and one of his priorities needed to be capturing the rat sometime within the next two weeks, before the Hogwarts term started.

And, once he had his hands on Pettigrew, he had a nice little idea for clearing Sirius's name that included Veritaserum and a certain menace to society masquerading as a Journalist.

# # #

Harry apparated to an alley outside of The Leaky Cauldron. He had donned his Dante glamour of short, shaggy crimson hair and his normal eye color for today's outing to Diagon Alley. Adjusting his dark brown everyday robes, he casually strolled into The Cauldron and navigated through the early afternoon patrons to the back.

Tapping the prescribed sequence of bricks with his finger, Harry walked through the entrance to Diagon Alley and into an explosion of colors and sound. He hadn't visited Diagon during daylight hours since beginning the new time-line and the difference was amazing, especially with all the wizarding families escorting their children around, buying school supplies.

In the old time-line, he'd never been able to leisurely visit Diagon Alley and just enjoy the experience as an unknown, regular wizard. Excitement bubbled in his chest at the idea that he could do that now.

Eyes twinkling and a happy smile on his face, Harry moved into the crowds, weaving in and out, taking it all in. Parents ushered their chattering children to and fro, stopping occasionally to greet friends with hearty handshakes or slaps on the back, voices loud and enthusiastic with news and laughter. Children practically skipped from shop-to-shop, window-to-window, 'ooohing' and 'aaahing' over items displayed or bought and dragging each other along to see the next discovery. A few street vendors boasted loudly of their wares, enticing customers to come closer for a look. Chittering and squawks of various caged familiars provided counterpoint to the hoots of newly purchased owls preening on their owners' shoulders. All the noise and activity was enhanced by a visually stunning display of people wearing outrageous hats and wretchedly gaudy outfits that almost outnumbered the folks wearing normal, everyday robes.

Harry came to Quality Quidditch Supplies and stopped, remembering all the times he and Ron had stood with their noses plastered against the glass, salivating over the newest broom on display, just like two boys were doing right now. The two boys looked to be around eleven years old, and he could easily visualize himself and Ron in their places.

A sudden vision of an older Ron, his neck severed by a cutting curse, blood pumping out of his jugular in great spouts, clouded Harry's mind and squeezed his heart in a painful vise.

Harry quickly turned away, closing his eyes and taking a deep lung-full of air. That had been the day Ron had died in the battle outside of Hogsmead, and the years hadn't lessened the agony of the memory. Ron's death had been the final straw, the last catalyst in a series of losses up to that point. Many more that Harry had loved and cared for died later, but Ron's death was the beginning of Harry's walk down a darker path. That was the day Harry decided to truly delve into his training wholeheartedly, giving up on thoughts of a normal life and pursuing everyday pleasures.

Physical combat, the Dark Arts, Mind Magics, and even potions training became his focus. Relaxing with his remaining friends, playing exploding snap or chess, and playing friendly games of Quidditch became frivolous pursuits he couldn't allow, and when anyone suggested that he take some downtime to recover from training, he'd ripped into them with the harsh side of his tongue.

In the end, it hadn't been enough. Yes, he'd killed the Dark Bastard, but by then, everyone who'd mattered was dead. And, the loss of Severus, Mad-Eye and Nicholas in the final battle was almost more than he could bear. They had been through so much, had given everything within them to see the end of Voldemort, only to die before Harry was able to deliver the final blow to the evil fucker.

Harry shook off the memories and tried to regain some of the light-hearted spirit he'd been enjoying a few minutes ago. It didn't matter whether he regained his old friends or not during this time-line. Just the knowledge that they were all alive and happy, spared the evil of Voldemort this time around, would be enough. Yes, it would be more than enough. He could enjoy watching them all from afar, if he had to. They were worth it.

Harry raised his eyes and spotted Eyelops Owl Emporium across the street. His mood lightened a bit more. It was time to buy Hedwig again. He just hoped she was still there.

Crossing the street, Harry entered the Emporium and scanned the shop, his eyes landing on her almost immediately. He sighed in relief and made his way over to the clerk.

"Excuse me, sir. I'd like to buy that snowy owl," Harry pointed out his choice, "and some owl treats. I've no need for a cage."

Hedwig seemed to understand that she was the topic of discussion and fluttered off her perch to land on Harry's shoulder.

"Alright, lad. Looks like she's taken a liking to you. Smart one, that. Knew you were talking about her right off the bat." The clerk chuckled.

Harry followed the clerk to the counter. He paid for Hedwig and the owl treats the man handed over. Then, walked out of the shop, stopping on the sidewalk.

"Hedwig," Harry whispered, "I've just keyed you into the wards around our home and cast a charm so you can find it. I need you to fly on home, because I've a bit more shopping to do. We'll spend some time together later."

Hedwig hooted her understanding, nipped his ear, and flew off. Harry grinned to himself. That had to be the smartest owl in the world. She had disappeared while out hunting about a year before the final battle, and he was anxious to get reacquainted with her.

Harry continued down the street towards Ollivander's. There was no way he would leave his wand for someone else to buy in the future. He still had his and Voldemort's wands from the old time-line, and by the time he was done here in this new world, he would have another identical wand of each. The wands were just too powerful and dangerous to leave to chance.

Harry passed by Gringotts on the way to his destination and had to restrain a whoop of anticipation. He had the Potter and Black fortunes from the old world. So, it would be quite fun giving the Potter fortune from this world to Remus. That, along with the Black vault belonging to Sirius, would set up the two men he considered his surrogate parents for a life of luxury.

He couldn't wait for The Daily Prophet to come out with the story of Sirius' innocence. If his plans went well, that would happen very soon. Remus was sure to come out of his self-imposed exile the moment he read it. Harry was anxious to see his old Professor again and get him back together with Sirius. The two lovers had already spent too many needless years apart because of Peter's betrayal.

Finally reaching Ollivanders, Harry paused to make sure his magical signature was masked well enough to fool the powerful wandmaker. He did not want the man to discover his real identity and inform Dumbledore that Harry Potter had been in his shop. He still hadn't decided whether to approach Dumbledore as Harry or not and didn't want any options taken away by revealing himself to Ollivander.

Satisfied with his masking and the strength of his glamour, Harry opened the shop door and walked in. His eyes immediately went to the darkened corner where he knew Ollivander liked to lurk, and the man was there just as he'd expected.

Giving Ollivander the shy smile he would expect from a nervous first-year, Harry said, "Excuse me, sir. I was told to come here for a wand."

Ollivander's face displayed a very brief look of surprise as he moved out of the corner. "Ah, yes, my boy. You have indeed come to the right place."

After a calculating look, Ollivander continued, "What might be your name then, young man?"

Harry grinned innocently. "It's Dante, sir."

Ollivander looked at his hair and gave a small, uncharacteristic snort. "Well, then, Dante. What would be your wand hand?"

A magical tape measure descended upon Harry's right arm as soon as he stuck it out. A minute later, Ollivander called it off and walked towards a stack of boxes, muttering to himself.

Harry turned and walked straight to the Holly and Phoenix Feather wand, picking it up from its display. While waving it and creating a stream of colorful sparkles, Harry called over to Ollivander. "What about this one, sir?"

The man spun around and gaped. His eyebrows climbing his forehead, Ollivander cleared his throat and began his speech, the same from last time.

But, before the man could get started with his rambling, Harry interrupted, "It's brilliant! I'll take it."

He ushered Ollivander over to his own counter and paid for the wand, rushing out before the man could sputter a reply.

Harry wove his way through the shoppers in Diagon Alley, chuckling. The old wandmaker was probably still standing in his shop, gaping at the door. It had been fun to confuse the man, messing up his 'Mysterious persona' routine. Definitely a highpoint of his shopping trip.

Once he purchased a house-elf from Glubman Auctions, he could go home and get reacquainted with Hedwig. With this thought in mind, Harry pulled the hood of his cloak up and purposefully strode into Knockturn Alley.


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR**

/

The sound of breaking glass tinkled in the night air. Harry smirked at the large, soggy rodent that slapped into his palm. Who knew that a simple _Accio_ of the rat through a glass window would be so satisfying? A feral grin stretched Harry's lips. Yes, the blood dripping from the unconscious Animagus was very satisfying indeed.

Disapparating from the Burrow, Harry stuffed the rat into his expanded pocket and walked into The Leaky Cauldron. He climbed the stairs and searched for room seventeen. By now, Rita Skeeter should be there waiting for their second appointment of the evening.

Harry found the room and walked in, shutting the door and surreptitiously casting wandless silencing and locking charms on it before letting go of the doorknob. Rita Skeeter sat at a small table, her long fingernails tapping out an impatient rhythm.

She peered over her horn-rimmed glasses, lips pursed. The woman's lipstick was a ghastly orange color that made her complexion seem more sallow than normal and clashed horribly with her yellow and blue paisley robes. Harry barely repressed a shiver of revulsion.

"Well, boy, were is this supposed evidence you promised to prove the outrageous story you told earlier?"

"Here." Harry pulled the rodent from his pocket and dropped it to the floor near her chair.

Rita shrieked and jumped from her chair, scrambling to the top of the rickety table.

"A rat! Wait, a rat? Is this some sort of sick joke? That's disgusting!" She screamed.

Harry doubled over laughing, ignoring her continued ranting. Really, she had no room to complain about a disgusting rat when her own animagus form was a bug. A creepy, crawly multi-legged beetle, no less. He tried to calm his laughter, but it was a struggle while watching her tippy-toe dance on top of the wobbly table, screaming for him to "remove the grotesque vermin this instant".

He finally pulled out his old wand and stared at her, eyebrow raised and a sneer curling his upper lip. When she finally calmed down, he cast the charm to reverse Peter's animagus transformation.

The small body grew, fur and tail receding. Soon, a short, chubby, balding man with rat-like features lay on the floor, covered in bleeding cuts and scratches. Harry levitated him to a chair and cast charms to restrain him and prevent the animagus transformation.

Rita climbed down from the table and gasped, "Is this…"

"Peter Pettigrew." Harry finished.

Rita looked over at Harry, shock written plainly on her face.

"If this is really him, then everything you told me earlier was true!" Her eyes took on a glazed look of greed. "An innocent man sent to Azkaban without a trial, a traitor living amongst decent wizarding folk for years as a rat, one of You-Know-Who's followers secretly lurking within our midst…Oh the horror! The mortal danger we've all been in without knowing it! I'll be famous with a story like this!"

Harry sighed in irritation at her antics. "Listen, do you still have the veritaserum I gave to you earlier to test?"

Rita pulled the vial out of her pocket and eagerly moved to squeeze three drops into the man's mouth.

As soon as she'd finished, Harry pointed his wand at Wormtail and whispered, "Ennervate." The man blinked his eyes open groggily.

Seeing that he was awake, Rita demanded, "State your name."

Instantly, he replied, "Peter Pettigrew."

Rita squealed in delight and pulled out her quill and a pad of paper.

# # #

Harry sat at his breakfast table, sipping his coffee and eagerly waiting for Hedwig to return with the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. Rita Skeeter had been ecstatic with the exclusive story she received last night. She'd hammered Peter with questions last night, her quill flying across the page the entire time, occasionally complaining about "Dante's" refusal to let her use a Quick-Quotes Quill.

Little did she know that Harry had placed a powerful, slightly dark truth spell on her. She'd never be able to write an untruth again. There was no way he was going to leave Sirius' exoneration to chance.

Afterwards, Harry had re-dosed the man with veritaserum and Rita had cheerfully apparated Peter to the entrance hall of Auror Headquarters. She had been all too eager to declare Peter's betrayal to the authorities and get the rest of the information she needed to round out her story.

Harry just hoped all had gone well and Fudge didn't try to cover it up. At least, if the Minister did try that, Rita's printed story would go a long way to change his mind.

Hedwig swooped into the room, hooting, and dropped the newspaper.

**ACCUSED DEATHEATER AND MURDERER, SIRIUS BLACK, INNOCENT!**

**PETER PETTIGREW ALIVE – ADMITTED TO FRAMING BLACK!**

**By Rita Skeeter**

_Ten years ago, Sirius Black, thought to be James and Lily Potter's secret keeper, was accused of alerting You-Know-Who to the whereabouts of the Potters' location, resulting in their deaths. The only survivor of that fateful night was their son, The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter._

_Mr. Black was also accused of later killing 12 muggles and family friend, Peter Pettigrew, in an explosion he created on a busy street. When captured, Sirius Black was sent straight to Azkaban without a trial or the use of veritaserum, declaring his own innocence the entire time._

_Last night, yours truly, Rita Skeeter, had the honor of assisting in the capture and interrogation of the true villain – Peter Pettigrew. Under the influence of veritaserum, Mr. Pettigrew admitted his identity and the fact that he was the Potters' true secret keeper. He further confessed to being a Deatheater, with the mark on his arm to prove it, and to killing the muggles, cutting off his own finger to leave behind, framing Sirius Black for his death along with the poor muggles._

_Minister, Cornelius Fudge, himself was awoken from his slumber and brought down to Auror Headquarters last night to witness Peter Pettigrew's confession. After numerous identity spells and extensive questions from the Minister himself, Mr. Fudge was convinced of Mr. Black's innocence._

_After yours truly, Rita Skeeter, assured Minister Fudge that I would dutifully report on his diligence in obtaining proof positive of Peter Pettigrew's treachery, Mr. Fudge cleared Sirius Black of all charges and arranged for his immediate release from Azkaban later this evening._

**A Deatheater Rat Among Us – How Peter Pettigrew Has Been Living – Page 2**

**That Fateful Night – The Story of the Potters and the Boy-Who-Lived – Page 3**

**Can There Be Justice Without Veritaserum? – Page 10**

# # #

"Albus, can this be true?" Severus asked, his voice weak with shock.

The Headmaster's normally bright eyes were dulled with sorrow as he replied, "I'm afraid so, my dear boy. I spoke with Kingsley Shacklebolt earlier this morning before owling Remus. Kingsley, himself, was one of the Aurors that attended Pettigrew's interrogation."

Severus glanced back down at the newspaper in his shaking hands. He had never liked Black, but this… This was beyond horrible. To be carted off to Azkaban with no trial, no way to defend one's self, having been innocent the entire time, was beyond his ability to contemplate. And, without Dumbledore's backing during the trials, Severus could have easily ended up in a cell next to Black. At least the ministry had actually given him a trial.

Severus looked over at Lupin. The man still sat motionless in his chair, his face thunderstruck, tears rolling down his cheeks. Lupin's copy of The Daily Prophet was crumpled in his fists.

The Headmaster cleared his throat. His voice oozing guilt, he began, "Remus, I'm so sorry. If only I'd checked to see if there had been a trial…"

A chocked sob ripped from Remus' throat. Throwing down the newspaper, he jumped up and ran from Albus' office, slamming the door behind him.

For the first time since he'd met them, Severus Snape felt sorry for two of the Marauders. Surely, hell had frozen over.

# # #

Harry stood beside a scraggly tree, a light breeze tossing around wisps of his shaggy hair, and watched the scene unfolding below him. Two men stood on the old wooden dock, clutching each other and sobbing into the other's shoulder. One man was thin and filthy, his clothing no more than rags hanging off his body. The other was healthier and cleanly, if only shabbily, dressed.

Sirius and Remus.

Harry had expected to see Dumbledore with Remus, ready to greet Sirius after getting off the boat from Azkaban Island. But, the old man hadn't shown up. Harry was partly relieved that he didn't have to avoid the Headmaster, but, at the same time, he was angered that Albus had left Remus and Sirius to face their reunion alone, without anyone to support and guide the two emotional men away.

Eventually, the Aurors who had escorted Sirius from Azkaban left, leaving only the two oblivious men on the deserted dock. Harry gave them all the time they needed, watching them alternately hugging and pulling away to clutch the other's face, staring and making sure each was real.

When the two men turned towards him, walking side-by-side, arms around each other, to leave the dock, Harry stepped away from the tree to approach them. For the first time since arriving in this time-line, Harry wore no glamours. His black hair was brushed back from his face, leaving the vivid curse scar on his forehead visible.

The two men were so wrapped up in each other that Harry had to loudly clear his throat to get their attention when they were only a few feet away.

Remus and Sirius stopped, looking up to see who'd intruded on their private moment. Seconds later, twin looks of shock overcame their curious expressions.

"Harry?"

"Prongslet?"

Harry nodded at Remus and Sirius, smiling. "Hey Padfoot, Moony. I've come to take you both home with me."

Harry suddenly found himself squashed between the two men, the breath being hugged out of his body and listening to renewed bouts of sobbing above his head.

Tears of joy running down his own face, Harry grabbed onto both of them and apparated them home, not caring about his casual display of power. He planned on telling both of his surrogate fathers everything anyway.


End file.
